Category Archives: Poetry

Oh, Islam

Billions want to say:

‘Oh Islam!’
Whilst we know
We The People
Kill with plane and robot

“Not deliberately!”, we say

Carl Atteniese Jr.

•Dozens Of People Killed In Attack On Turkish Nightclub; Suspect Still At Large

•Blasts In Baghdad Kill At Least 28 At A Busy Market

To Those Who Quit Smoking

You are a hero

You now are no longer
One of the most radioactive people
You now are cleansing
Instead of toxifying
You now are not a threat
To the global environment
Simply because of your body
And because of unnecessary emissions

You are in defiance
Of the most insidiously evil
And stupidly legal
Homocidal and DNA-destroying
Profit motive

And because of you
Others can breathe as they should
A little more

Thank you

One’s Trump Folly

Oh for shame and sadness

And even for his own

Will sell their lives down river

Blind to his evil tome

For he tells straight what he will do

But the stupid aren’t scared

So Americans ignorant to the truth

Will be the last ones spared



Pick A Good Religion

I met a man on a mountain in Korea. He had this to say about Religion:

We all talk about what happens when we die. I met a wise man at the top of Bukhan Mountain in Korea, once, and this is what he told me about where the followers of different religions go:

The Christians go to a resort in the sky if they’re sorry for being jerks and profess to believe. If they’re not, they stay at a place something like the sun–forever. God makes them non-destructible at that point, but able to feel pain.

The Jews don’t go anywhere. They become their own advocates and litigate outside the gates of either place. The reason they don’t get muscled in is no one wants to cross them. They are good in a fight, make good movies and, you never know when you’re going to need a lawyer.

The Buddhists have unlimited lives, but if they’re pains in the ass, they come back as worms, or dogs, or North Koreans. Or  almost worse, they come back as dogs in traditional villages in South Korea, where they are a delicacy.

The Muslims have the best deal. They have to be good–which may include being involved in Mission Impossible-style military campaigns for political causes, which may include suicide, but the rewards are great for this. If they die during one, I hear they go to a place like the Playboy mansion in the sky. If they are bad, they have to hang out with infidels at Fox.

Taoists hitch a ride on a meteor, which mysteriously leaves the atmosphere without crashing, hitched to a flying dragon–who then takes them to some wine and opium-filled after-party in another galaxy.

Atheists just die.

Agnostics sort of die, sort of go to Heaven (where they are rewarded by God for being honest), and sort of go to Hell–on a rotating basis. I hear it’s like riding a merry-go-round through a segmented circle, with parts being like a sex shop, an inferno, and a Woody Allen movie.

Deists go to The God Buffet and have a membership card to all realms–which they can visit at will, but can never stay at permanently. They tend to hang out with the spirits of the Jihadist Muslims at the Playboy Mansion in the sky. Even the women.

Janeists own the whole shebang. Yeah, unbelievable, right? All the realms of the afterlife are concessions, owned by those vegetarian pacifists. I don’t know where they live after death. I think it is some big floating resort called “In Your Face, Nirvana,”  orbiting another star in the constellation, Virgo.

The Hindus are the limo drivers and the Sufis are the therapists and yoga instructors.

The Shintoists just go on tending those sublime shrines and go to sleep at night in the rocks, the trees and the creatures in the breeze.

Nobody knows what happens to American Indians. I think they just continue on as great spirits in the form of living peyote smoke or drum rhythms & chants–everywhere.


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.

New Love

When you awake

Most every day

Saddened by what’s gone

Feeling trapped in yesterday

Leaving you


When you arrive in mirthful climes

Feeling heart-felt pain

In beautiful places

Feeling it’s another stop

On a train

When you look happy outside

But’re rueful, deep within

And Lost because

That special time

Won’t begin again

With life eternally simple, now

You’re not want to care

And every step

Toward novelty

Fades from here

To There

Can you find

Some newness

Something that’s for you

Acting as a portal

To happiness that’s true?

And if you see such chances

As something all but real

Anchored in those

Blissful times

That tragedy did steal

Then this will be the hell

From which

You surely won’t escape

Where health and life

Will rob your self

As in the act of rape

Though you’re not want to

Letting go of dreams and things so true

and asking

Did it happen?

Is it gone, as it just seems?

Well then

Just don’t

Bury love

Stoke it fresh

And warm

While stepping into

New Love

Like hearing a new song

Revel in that time, then!

And live alive right now!

Lest you lose your mind man!

The common way known how

In heart remember memories

But don’t leave now behind

Lest your friends and family

And New love

Now be blind


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.


I don’t see the moral connection

Between a tragic, misdeed in death

And mayhem in the streets

While one was a result

Of poor conditioning and fear

The other is of premeditation

And culpability quite clear

It is the corrupted mind

That answers mistakes

And responds to misdeeds

With conscious violence

Minus fear

So please

Tell me

What your message is


As now your names you smear


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.

Who Escapes?

What is wrong

if anything,

with family

and friends

and the self

and onlookers

that this happens

to us

or to one

What is right with one

that makes him see

all the more that is wrong

with us

so greatly

he can no longer be

Or is it plain to you

and is it okay

to me that

the only problem was

with the Robin

but we did not care

or could not see

We often ask this question

about God

and His defenders

We say it just has to be

Does that make God

like you and me

When a bird takes flight

we give her credit

but what made her fly

If a man is not frightened

but he’d rather die

who or what

was behind the wind

and who can remain

standing in it

And who has fancy names

for the gale

and why

Please trust me

We can turn

a gust into a breeze

if we whisper

Don’t be blown away

And fly to perches

whence ye can return

or talk to me

Carl Charles Carroll Atteniese

Get to Your Goals

Get to your goals

There is the reason we set up goals in our lives

There are plenty of obstacles to our goals and they appear every moment of everyday

In our attempts to do what we must you do from moment to moment, it is easy to become fatigued,

We are natural beings requiring rest and so this fatigue causes us to settle

So, before you know it, the obstacles have become your daily routine and you get no closer to your goals by settling into a life of obstacles

You can tell that you are settling by two main factors, and one is you are surrounded by things that you’re very interested in–but you’re really not taking a part in them

You see their traces on your walls

On your bookshelves

In your bag

But you’re really not doing anything about them–just carrying them around

This is why they become baggage

Sometimes we are so surrounded by the things we had intended to be a part of, we do not even recognize them until we go shopping–or until someone asks us what we want to do–and we see them apart from ourselves as new things, instead of as neglected fixtures in our cluttered lives

You know that you really care about something when it’s the first thing out of your mouth when someone asks you what you want, or like, or miss

You know that you really care about something when you go to the bookstore and that’s the subject that you unconsciously seek out before any other, whether it is “practical” or not

Or when you are in a waiting room and you pick up a magazine or allow your thoughts to center on a person, place, or subject

If our lives become a routine of surviving, doing chores, going to “work” (which is usually your effort in someone else’s work!), cleaning–the things we really wanted we may never get to, have, or do–unless we are doing chores and surviving on the path to what we want

Sometimes on the path to what we want, we decide the best way to get there is to do things the “smartest way” … but often the smartest way takes the longest and before we realize it, those things we want are just on the shelf, surrounding us on walls, or in our bags …

Worst is when they become unconscious obstacles to forward motion, and they show up only in our restless hearts, and visible in the cloudy vignettes of a dream, or a nightmare

If you are not satisfied with just surviving, with being in the wrong place, with dreaming about what you want… you should wake up every day with the intention of paying a little thought to what is really most important to you–and one of the first things on your mind should be where you are going and what you are doing that day–to get there

Think about what you are really doing, and recognize what you think you are doing, say you are doing pretend you are doing, and dream you are doing

And notice how close or far what you are doing will take you to your goals

Think about when you want to actually do what you want to do and how close you are to doing it

Setting goals or having dreams is not enough

Dreaming of someday doing something is dreaming

Saying it will happen at the right time is fantasy

And saying you will do it only in the best way is like saying it will never happen, unless you are taking the best steps to doing it, today


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.

The Candle

It took thirteen billion years for the human race to arrive, and here we are on a planet that occupies a “Goldilocks Zone” of miraculous perfection–a planet that has no habitable neighbors for light years.

We are, quite simply, the greatest accomplishment known to us in the universe, and we achieved enlightenment and industry in only the last several thousand years. However, we are steady on a violent and irresponsible course of self-destruction, and causing great pain and suffering along the way.

We inhabit a world that shows a ‘universe-defying’ diversity of life, in a solar system devoid of such. We are just beginning –as a space faring species, but space travel should be for knowledge… however–more and more, it seems it is going to have to be for survival–which is a shame of epochal proportions.

We must save our species and as many others as we can. We must dramatically alert more of the world–China, India, and the already biosphere-tanking mega-polluters: America, Europe, and Australia… to the urgency of this cause, not just its fact of being.

We must garner a level of ubiquitous agreement on the awareness of what I call the Veritas Maximus, or Maximum Truth, and we must dispel the misinformation obscuring it.



We must make it common in most minds–if not all–the inconvenient and devastating reality now apparent to those angels of humanity among us–the honest and ingenious scientists slaving over the data and research; we and our civilization are in grave danger, through over-consumption, over-production, and the production & consumption of the wrong things; and we are fast focused on minutia that is distracting us from our own survival, as the sustenance of that survival is literally going up in smoke.



In fifty years of SETI, no one has reached out to us. In thirteen and a half billion years of universal existence, no race has found the ability and/or interest to be able to travel to this part of the universe, or–they are unknown to us. For all we know, we are alone, however improbable that may seem. Alone, yet magnificent… a brilliant candle in a vast ocean of darkness, and alas, we are about to be snuffed out.

Desk Pilot Killers And Jihadis

A man doesn’t attack his rivals
He does a better job for support

A jealous child attacks his rivals
Feeling small and impotent

Imagine if these people
Strapping bombs to themselves

Had not been raped to believe
That they are heroes

Imagine if they knew the truth
That they are the real cowards
Deluded into believing their rape of others is justified
And that some homicidal god will reward their patent insanity

Imagine we were better, with
Our Fly-by-Wire Death
Nerds in little control rooms
Pressing buttons on a desk

Imagine you, America — were
fair enough to see
You are worse than fanatics
Who kill indiscriminately

For when you send your demons
Buzzing in the sky
Killing women, children, and men

You should wonder why
You are better


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.

Bad Words

Erroneous, facetious words

They conjure incorrect meaning
They mislead and legitimize falsehoods

‘Race’ is meaningless
And pernicious

We grow up to stop saying ‘doo-doo’
Why use other, childish words
‘Prejudice’ means a non-thinking state
A state of mindless ignorance

‘Nazi’ holds useful literary power, but
It devalues more pernicious fascism
Like the type ruining America

Words used as cloaks, like
‘Christian’, ‘God’, ‘race’
Conceal real meaning
Perpetuating falsehood
Legitimizing ignorance
Hiding real issues


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.


Peace, Love, And Joy…

I hope you feel great. I’m happy you dropped by. It’s an honor.

I mean the things I say, and they may be uncommon, so I can be misundrstood.


I look into the essence of things and am a celebrator of life, so I see something to be enthusiastic about in everything, and everywhere I look.

I feel and think that people like Galileo, Einstein, Newton, Copernicus, and other free-thinking artists of science and expression, like Da Vinci, Carravaggio, Hokusai, Hiroshige, Yoshitoshi; Van Gogh, Klimt, Schelle, Rembrandt, my sisters and my parents, my ex, and some of my friends, are the closest entities to angels we shall ever see on Earth.

This is true for Walter Russell, Bertrand Russell, Darwin, Plank, Crick, Loinhook, Edison, Bell, Franklin, Marx, Washington, Lincoln, Jefferson, Adams, Neitche, Tesla, Curie, Dawkins, Hitchens, Marx, Kierkegaard, Ehrman, Camus, Plato, Socrates, Thich Nhat Hanh, Suzuki, The Dalai Lama, Seung Sahn, Dae Heng, Lao Tsu…

Ho Chih Minh, Washington, Clinton, Brown, Moore, Schweitzer, Stone, Allen, Chaplin, Carlin, CK;

All the comedians, all the artists, all the scientists…

Jesus The Christ, The Buddha…

John Lennon, Yoko Ono, Paul McCartney, Jackson, Denver, Peter Gabriel, for certain…

Go ahead and laugh, really; I am leaving out a great many people and some of them because you’d be shocked; How did Mao, Stalin, Hitler, Hirohito, Pol Pot become evil; by design? Of their own accord? They are vilified, but more greatly than Bush, Nixon; consider Lincoln; he ‘had’ Sherman burn down The South. Were these men (not including Lincoln; I love his memory) bad as little boys? Were they loved or abused? Do we abuse children, in our societies? With our cultures; religion, education, capitalist indoctrination and conformity? How much more damaging were these societal conventions in the days when these boys were conscripted into their worlds? Who followed them, agreed with them, supported them? Who’s responsible?


I feel that even “angels” aren’t perfect.

Think of Lucifer. What was his flaw? As Al Pacino portrays him in Devil’s Advocate, he says he is “a fan of man”, and obviously there’s nothing wrong with that, but he routed for man more than for righteousness. Isn’t this the hallmark of our egos?

The worst of despots-notwithstanding insanity–might have had loving intentions, but they went wrong in their practice and in their need to control… and couldn’t we say they were aided, abetted, and led to their killing perches through this support?

Look at our world, today. Is Kim Jung Un less of a despot because we have him in check? Is he a despot by inheritance and an entrapping position of comfort and enshackling pride-filled obligation?
Are we guilty of not trying to rescue him?

Are we culpable when men like him cross the line–whilst we’d had decades to intervene?

All “angels” among humanity WERE–and those like them ARE–trying to make the human experience better, less painful, more beautiful….

The secret to the success of this endeavor is love….

We can all be free-thinking, expressive, loving, and world-changing individuals; great parts of humanity….

It would take a big step in out thinking. We have to stop labeling people, especially with de-humanizing labels, like ‘monster’. No one wants to talk to a monster. You kill a monster, and with that attitude, you get where we are today.

I think a good way to really see if someone is healthy and the recipient of well-taught and generously-given love is to see she “fights to win” or ‘wins at conciliation’ and peace-making? The defensive, bellicose person is in pain. We might not be able to disarm an unhealthy person with sweet talk if he’s already got tanks on the border, but if we were invested in saving everyone from the beginning, seeing the possibilities before they went up in smoke, he might not have those tanks on the border.

How to be more like an angel, or if that’s to feminine for you, ‘how to be a heroic individual’:

1. join:, and help reduce the suffering in the world, and;

2. See these films on You Tube:

•The Eleventh Hour

Well, these are first steps.

Thank you,
Love, Peace, and Joy


Will make you

Chase happiness

If you want to be healthy and have it

Will make you forget, if you can

And find it who-where

If you can

Will make you suffer, forever

Opening yourself to them

To find this wisdom of finality

Torturously captured by her

Though this muse is gone, again and again

Or else you’ll never know
Why you must keeping searching

And you’ll fall and fall, then and then

Even if because you have to hurl yourself over

Will make you die in flight

Seeking those charms

In another

Until your alone

And remember

That happiness is right then

Until there’s silence, again

And you love them and hate them

And it never ends

The Light in Us

Is it the fulling moon
Pressing it’s passionate
Light against the sky
In our shy
Earth night
Cold, up high

Or that attraction
Between the bodies
A gravity

That draws me wanting
To be close and warm
With you

Or is it you

I fall adream

Yet not too gone
To keep from keeping

My waking dream

And I float in
To this, a picture

And I walk in
Into the mirror

And picking you up
As I love to do
I have the aroma
Of herbs and oils
Pleasant to your senses true

And you drift, yourself
My heavenly Angel
Into a slumber

Into my sleep
Where I lay you
Down in a meadow
Tall with warm and
Sunlit grass

Beneath a tree you lie
You lie your beautiful
Self on me

And I sing to you
I seranade you So softly
Warm and soothing as the breeze

And I watch you breathe
And a tear, it washes free
Sliding down my cheek
And it cleanses me

And touching your skin
As the sun goes red
You stir beneath stars
Your auburn, lovely head

And looking up
As the moon does rise
I see the starlight in
Your eyes

Your lovely
Your eyes

And I kiss you softly
On the lips
And time is started
All anew

And all I do
What I long to do
Forever true
From the slumber
In the dream

Forever and gently
I carry you

To my home…


Carl Atteniese



Captured in the crystals
The shapes in dark
And light

Like shadows
In the morning
Or figures trapped
In night

Call you

If you
Them here

What confidence
And passion
Made making them
So dear

Should I then develop
These seconds
From the past

With smiles
And tears
To kindle
And broken love
To last

Would that you could see them
A flame or two alight

Some laughter and
Some passion
A spark of
Thence delight

Trapped in black
And yellow
In these little cans

In image
Within my lonely hand


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.


photo 3Arriving is not so great
As being where you are…
On the way

That’s where you see everything
In anticipation

Until you find there is nothing to go to
To anticipate

And everything beautiful
Is all around you

Every moment
In her greatest and most exquisite detail

Where you find out whom you really are


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.



What of sorts or methods
Of recourse can we find
To stop the maddening tortures
Perpetrated by the blind

What to do when a genius
‘Mongst members of his band
Is relegated to ‘idiot’
‘Mongst the sightless
Of This Land

Beautiful shells with souls
In his image go
‘Mongst US
Rarely settling
For mindlessness on they grow

It may take two decades
For you to see me nigh
With brown through blue
And thoughtless, and
How you made me

Horses know about it
And for it, you’re too, right
Strapped so tight your blinders
It might as well be night

Progenitors teaching logic
Where we sow love instead
Breeds a shallow person
Who might as well be dead

But ‘long as they’re
‘Mongst brethren
Or foreigners
Jump high
No recourse yet
Is needed

Just another guy


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.

Hope & Yuki


Inspired by
I never look at snow
In less than a new way

Except, of course
I’d have to say
Ando made me see
The stuff as always Beautiful

Enchanting as winter can be
Tears, as well as lovely shapes
It brings, for those with broken hearts

And those who feel stranded
By time, space, and loneliness
And the passing of loved-ones
So, Dear Friends,

Know that if you do not have a real life-and-death problem
At this moment,
You do not have a problem*,

And remember that
Everything is a matter of awareness, good-natured-ness,
Options, and positivity

All negativity is fantasy,
Born out of worry about the past,
Which is gone,
And the future, which never comes; Only the passing
Of the present moment.


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.
*Thanks to the Venerable Zen Master, Thich Nhat Hahn


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.

I love
A bus ride
In the humming warmth

The sun or moon
Shining down

The going
The coming
Or with a friend

Either way
You dream on
Your own

A train affords
A better slumber
With the rattle-tat-tat
Of the wheels on the tracks

I love to travel
And sleep
And revel

And arriving
Is the surprise
After that


© Copyright Carl Atteniese Jr., 2012, All Rights Reserved. (Creative Commons License)


Perfect, light-dappled pond ripples

Echoes of burdensome, sunken stones

Starlight in one’s eyes.

Whispers in moonlit shore breezes


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.

I Don’t

I Don’t…

mind, listening to a ‘grown’ man cry

tell him to “man-up”

relish the strength of a man
surreptitiously trained
out of fear

respect the ignorance of a man
beaten by society into stupidity

defend his ‘need’
to be unfeeling

like that women
often take advantage
of a man’s DNA-driven focus
or his love
expecting princely treatment
yet display themselves
to the better bidder…
and often leave for him
only to return when they see
how shallow and stupid
and dishonorable this is…
all the while asking for

I Don’t

like that in this country
most everyone perpetuates
the naiveté
of women
including the women
nor that this is all
to serve the stupidity
of most of the men

(or, their ignorance)
and their sense of entitlement
which makes
kingdom-less princesses
out of most of the women

I Don’t…

defend a woman who tortures
a man,
regardless of her reasons
in fear:
of abandonment
of insufficient support
or even of loss of love

I Don’t…

lack any compassion
for stupid men and women, and

I Don’t…

like using the word ‘stupid’,
but the outcome
of society is largely
ubiquitous stupidity
and men & women perpetuate
so I name it what it is


I Don’t…

like that stupidity rules most human life;
and man-made female-naiveté
or that it all trumps love

I Don’t…

like that a people can live amidst
space-faring-age technology
and still emote like cavemen

I Don’t…

like that tens of thousands of men
suffered the horrors of war
so people around me now
and forever, can live in luxury

nor that they seek to deny it
and forget it
because the nations that paid for
that freedom benefit

I Don’t…

like that my blood:
my dear uncle;
a lover, a brother, a son, a beloved, and an artist, a poet, a musician…
saw his friends killed, here
and went mad for a time, himself,

that he sweat through dreams
of that hell
for the rest of his life–
so horrid, that he couldn’t visit me here
or the man that was an orphan boy
whom my soldier-uncle raised
on Geohjae Island–
when the nightmare was real
and bad dreams were a respite from battle
and I don’t like that I am disrespected
by the children of those my uncle saved
because I share his nationality

I Don’t…

like that my and other nations
preach peace and democracy
but do not teach it
so after the horror
tribalism prevails

I Don’t…

like that my nation killed 3,000
Jeju-ans, because
they looked communist

I Don’t…

like that my nation
torched sixty Japanese cities
and dropped the rage of the sun
on two more of them
for the horrors Japan committed
and to frighten the world
and that the Koreans think
the Japanese didn’t pay

I Don’t…

Like that we dropped
chemical weapons
on the Vietnamese
and that the Koreans helped
because we paid them
yet they rail about the cruelty
of the Japanese

I Don’t…

like that I and my friends
and family
paid for these and other wars
which aren’t only for freedom
and that we have to stay here
but I know
there wouldn’t be ‘a here’
if we didn’t
and I wish you appreciated it

I Don’t…

like that the rest of my life
is painted one color
because of happenstance

And I don’t mind crying


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.


A Note About This Poem to Feminists:

If you find offense that I generalize about women, I applaud your sentiments that are aligned in issues of equality. However, I would not agree with you if you were to say that I should negate my experience as an expatriate resident in a Confucian country, where the roles of women were maddeningly codified and thus quite in line what I have conveyed in this poem. Now, I often struggled with how to describe my subjects without offending, but simultaneously struggling to impart a message to a definite group exhibiting definite behavior that is deleterious to the human soul. So, as I penned poems about my experience and pain of living in South Korea, I often bent to remove the label of that country to avoid having to deal with the ignorant charge of “racism” (the use of that stupid word!). Had I used the name of the country, I might have prevented this moment, because you would not feel I am labeling the behavior of all women, but that of those in a group. But alas, the truth is, some women in all cultures do what I have described in this poem, and I am not obligated to make that statement of gendered behavior neutral, because it is poetry, not sociological dissertation that I write. In addition, were no women in the experience of others found to act as I have described, and had only the women in my life acted that way, then I would still have the right to describe those women as “women” and be justified as a poet in doing it. Finally, it would not, as my writing now does not, make me sexist. It only makes me human, describing human experiences. I am not sexist; I am honest, forgiving, and descriptive. MA

Love Sees Beauty

Love is the greatest source of the most intense and powerful inspiration. This is because no matter what may drive someone, be it money, power, treasures, or physical, artistic, or intellectual achievements, if you add love to the mix–it becomes stronger still, doesn’t– it? Because love is a non-logical attraction that incorporates all the emotions and the mind and body together–driving us by hormonal, visual, tactile, olfactory, and memory-based experience, and love motivates people to overcome all kinds of odds like almost nothing else can.

Love is the forger of the most beauty a human mind can see–because it is intricately, viscerally, mentally, and emotionally personal–personalizing whatever aesthetic or spiritual beauty one is experiencing. This is why there can be no greater beauty beyond what the lover sees, not to him or her, anyway–regardless of the mass appeal of some general set of aesthetics–as represented in “a beautiful” man, woman, child, or thing. And this is why “Beauty (does) lie(s) in the eye of the beholder.” Finally, this is why it is insane for anyone to attempt to be beautiful to everyone–in following trends, fashion, and the urge to alter one’s face.

Beauty, like art, is formed in the individual mind, whereas aesthetics is formed in the consciousness of the masses, in some form of consensus–and therein lies the difference.

Iron in The Sun

I could withstand most any pain
If you were in my life, again
Because no suffering’s akin

To your absence
For you’re gone when
I wake
At morn
Except in heart
Where you’re a feeling
And a thought

When an empty weekend bought
A spirit-pleasure
And some laughs
For my gaffs

And you’re a dream
When stars are out
Their light not bright
As love’s devout

And other souls appealing
Thin can’t make the warmth
That stirs within

And all that’s beautiful and true
Reminds this heart of none
But you

And that’s a bit of what’s the pain
That makes this life
But a refrain

Without you

Carl Atteniese

© Copyright 2012 Carl Atteniese Jr., All Rights Reserved.

Pater Familias Carmine

The dedicated working Man
Is the one
In any land
Doing all he ever can
In his saving trade

Not the hours
Nor the place
Nor the level of disgrace
Matter anything to him
Or the living life
He’s made

He turns his work into an art
Perfecting each

And every part
For his wife and children

He sacrifices, like a soldier

His work’s about

His paid

For his dependents

And he gets older


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.


If ~

I knew that heaven has

Places through which we fall

If ~

I knew what’s inside, here

Is not as important as what’s out

If ~

I knew my time with you

Was measured and in doubt


Wouldn’t have said and done those things

That made time run out

And in the wrong directions

If ~

I knew how holes in Heaven

lead to the flames of Hell


The element that’s eternal, regardless of the pain

Is the power that brought us together

And it shines on just the same


It is always with us

Carried in our heart

Whether we’re together

Or we are apart

Carl Atteniese

Babe, How

How can it be
That one in the crowd
Looking so common to most

Is an angel
A princess
A babe
The one

To one

To be loved
And cherished
And wanted

And died over each day

Awash in a heart
With light from above
And within
So pure

Making your angered face demure

Your blemishes adorn
And all that you do
But a spell to secure

My passion
For ever
For sure

Carl Atteniese

I’d be


Smooth and light


I remember
Not a word

So if again
You’d not have heard

For tongues are better
Not spoken words

But articulating

Gifts of feeling
And of touch
Simple, close
And gentle motion

And amorously
Not much

That’s more exciting
Than anything else

Yes, quiet

Carl Charles Atteniese




© Copyright Carl Atteniese Jr. All Rights Reserved, Creative Commons License

Not Bright

I met a special someone
in someone
in a gallery
in Insa dong
in 2008

It was winter
but not too cold
but I was frozen-finished
with Korea

  disappointing relationships
  continuing “cultural abrasion”
  just an all-around exhaustion
  with a sort of ubiquitous sameness
  telling me “leave”


I’d sworn off Korean women
Then I met “Bright”

She was girlish


Ugly when angry, yet beautiful enough that I wanted to kiss her at the same time I wanted to scream at her stubbornness

Old, in her conservativism–yet security-inspiring
Immature in her wonderful naivete


A Celebration
And a Lament
And I am enthralled
for the dissatisfaction around one is always
within on;
which one

Solve it, as I have
and see the beauty in all things
most especially
Your muse

Lest you die
in one

Carl Atteniese Jr.

The Light in Us

The Light in Us

Is it the fulling moon
Pressing it’s passionate
Light against the sky
In our shy
Earth night
Cold, up high

Or that attraction
Between the bodies
A gravity

That draws me wanting
To be close and warm
With you

Or is it you

I fall adream

Yet not too gone
To keep from keeping

My waking dream

And I float in
To this, a picture

And I walk in
Into the mirror

And picking you up
As I love to do
I have the aroma
Of herbs and oils
Pleasant to your senses

And you drift, yourself
My heavenly Angel
Into a slumber

Into my sleep
Where I lay you
Down in a meadow
Tall with warm and
Sunlit grass

Beneath a tree you lie
You lie your beautiful
Self on me

And I sing to you
I seranade thee
Softly as the breeze
So quietly

And I watch you breathe
And a tear washes free
From my cheek
It cleanses me

And touching your skin
As the sun goes red
You stir neath stars
Your lovely head

And looking up
As the moon does rise
I see the starlight in
Thine eyes

The lovely
Beautiful eyes

And I kiss you softly
On the lips
And time is started
All anew

And all I do
Forever true
From the slumber
In the dream

Forever and gently
I love you

And I carry you home…
In the writing, photography, and drawing studio of this heartmind

Carl Atteniese

© Copyright 2012 Carl Atteniese Jr. All Rights Reserved. Edited with Photo Forge 2

Like A Spacrcraft

Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.

Korean trains are like spacecraft
Modular, clean, ergonomic
Economic, safety-capable
Military, sleek and modern

There is a tone that some
Make that is straight out of

The doors hiss like Decompressing air locks
The electric motors wine
In increasing cycles of vibrant
Frequency and higher decibels
As their carriage accelerate
Like a mysterious machine
In a sci-fi film

The only ‘anachronism’ to this
Day dream is their boxy shape

I really think that they should
Have a futuristic shell
Like the Rapíd that shuttles
Between Osaka Airport
And downtown

Only to highlight Korea’s
Accomplishment in metro


© Copyright 2012 Carl Atteniese Jr., All Rights Reserved. Peace, Love, Joy, & Imagination to you.


Learning the World
The people & culture
Of The Land of The Han

Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.


Can you carry me
When I cannot walk

Can you punish me
When I cannot talk

I love that you’re my older brother
An extension of my father

My brother from another mother
Hyung Nim, thank you

For telling me
What to do

Brother I’m glad you’re in charge
Brother, I love you


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.


Into the future
Not too far
To the palaces of your dreams

No matter where they are

The ones who really love you
Will make your journey real
You’ll know because they’ll
Give to it
More than they will steal

Always be so cautious
But don’t befriend their fear
It makes for you the scene
On which your dream’s death
Will appear

Into the mirror
At your hero there
At what makes her beautiful
At what makes her fair

Don’t let others define for you
Your looks or
What to do
And go back to
The mirror

And listen
To who’s


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.



From the sound
But not the vibration

Like the trees that are falling
That we don’t hear

Still it is a sign
Of everything calling

Against our illusions
And our dreamy hopes

All Reality is saying

We’re going

© Copyright 2012 Carl Atteniese Jr., All Rights Reserved. Peace, Love, Joy, & Imagination to you.


Why are you smiling, Miss
So very brightly

Why are you shining
So very much

Must it be
So remorsefully so

That in lieu of depth
With the ones we gave much to

We must settle for the shallow, and imagined pleasures of smiles

In passing

Because I know better
than to involve myself again
In what seems nice


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.


What you teach her
Will make or break her
Resurrect to
Happiness or
Forsake her

About the world
And of heaven
Make her life cake
Or bread

More than this
You make a
Or hell

From what you
And what you tell

What you let her find for
Herself, let her partake of
Or leave upon the shelf

Will make in her a mind
A girl open and free
Or a prisoner in a jail
She’ll be


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.

Kyonggi Do

It’s certainly friendly
And very congenial
Kind and cozy
And not demean-ial

In Seoul or Suwon
In Chooncheon, Kangwan, too
When Koreans are nice
They’re near familial
It’s true

Today the woman at the post office
Was friendly like a grandmother
Or an aunt

I wanted to leave a box there
And she most politely told me
“You can’t”

With the taxi-driver I felt
To apologize
For bringing food into his car
He asked right away
“You Had no time for lunch?”
So I’d told him what I’d done
‘Thus far’
He’d actually inquired
And I didn’t mind

This care for one another
Makes life less blind
For we can see
What people are about
And that way we can be
More kind


Copyright © 2012 and 2015, Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.


Have a some different purpose
Have quite a different view
Have a different energy

Concerns from me
And You

They’re from
A different country
In common to them all
They’re not from here and
They’re not from there, so
They tend not to see so small

Have a sort of sympatico
Have a spontaneity, too

And when you are
A traveler, you
See the me
In You

© Copyright 2012 Carl Atteniese Jr., All Rights Reserved. Peace, Love, Joy, & Imagination to you.


Like a cozy hot Korean Meal
With a friend from Fukuoka

Trilingual conversation
On a cold night

Such A Healing

In The stalls of old
Dong Dae Mun
“Eye shopping”
And bargaining

Passing time
The way one should
In momentary

© Copyright 2012 Carl Atteniese Jr., All Rights Reserved. Peace, Love, Joy, & Imagination to you.



I know where you are
I have spent years there
Though in your milieu
Perhaps it’s particularly more

Hell would be better
At least the burns there
Aren’t eternal
Only the pain

So, let us be brothers
And commiserate
For men are oft not taught
Just beaten into their rolls

And in my particular tribe
We are told not to cry
Whilst we are inculcated
Control the softer sex
And leave them alone
And listen to them
Though we’ve had our ears boxed

Then we should build the world
Fight wars to protect what’s built
Yet try not to get angry
In this raping process
And all along keep dancing
Our aches unnoticed
Only our pirouettes
And taps

Under the lights

In the mean time
If we fall off the stage
From exhaustion
We’re let go
Our hearts in tow
Or what’s left

Let it out
And get back to work

© Copyright 2012 Carl Atteniese Jr., All Rights Reserved. Peace, Love, Joy, & Imagination to you.

Posing in Motion

Who is that man
Always taking pictures
Is he part camera
With a defective eye

He sees me everywhere
But never asks my name
I would stop him
But I’m too shy

Who is that man
Always taking pictures
Is he part camera
With a defective eye

He sees me everywhere
But never asks my name
I would stop him
But I’m too shy


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.


My sister is like sol’s~light breaking through brilliantly, the crystal white

A dawn-break exploding, in the night

She’s a giver and stops she not

A survivor never moaning,
Though in pain a lot


When you look into the sky
Peering to eternity,
Wondering ‘why?’

Reach inside you, as she does
And carry on, happily, gratefully,
An inspiration to anyone wanting to do great things, with love


© Copyright 2012 Carl Atteniese Jr., All Rights Reserved. Peace, Love, Joy, & Imagination to you.

Sort of Cool

Cool is quiet in a moderate din
Cool is leaving alone
What’s private within

Cool is not pushing to buy

Cool is good music most of the time

Cool is that music that lets us talk

Cool is no smoke, so we can breathe
‘Cause we don’t come to hurt ourselves
We come for the ease

Cool is no questions that wear us out

Cool is non-racism WHICH FORCES us out


© Copyright Carl Atteniese Jr., All Rights Reserved.

Colorado & America

Colorado is almost incredible. I had forgotten what absolutely eye-ball-shockingly clear blue skies look like; how almost blinding the dark blues of dusk are; how almost vision-stoppingand bright un-obscured sunlight is; how even with asthma-almost two miles above sea level, whilst running in the cold with snow all around, my shortness of breath doesn’t have to be accompanied by a closing of my windpipe due to pollution, because there isn’t any(!); how almost menacingly the awe-inspiring magnitude of really huge moutnains and death-black, beaming-bright star studded night skies draw an immediate passion and respect from one’s conscious soul without question…and how friendly and real Americans are.

© Copyright Carl Atteniese Jr., All Rights Reserved.

82-(10) 5247-5712

A Morn


The upper blues are cold and fresh
Ablend with swirly whites

The lower ones are yellowish, not orange like the night’s

What I walk through’s
Crisp and chilled and
Telling of the twelfth

And there she is ‘just peeking’ through
A bomb upon the shelf

Her white is bright but also pale
We’re covered here
Like foam the ale

Spinning in our hidden world
This day upon the earth

ⓒCopyright Carl Atteniese Jr., All Rights Reserved

Photo/Poetry: Dazafu, Nihon

Loneliness isn’t temporal
Lonelihood isn’t personal
Neither these are spatial

Though they slow the minute hand

They accelerate the hour

When many be around me

And the second hand ticks loudly




Lonely’s mother’s a neighborhood, that’s ugly, unmoving, rowdy…

For when one moves my spirit, I talk to those around me

And Lonely’s but a phantom
And numbers a decoration

And ugliness is homeless
And another uncultured dream

Carl Atteniese

Poetry: Ripples on Ponds

Bodies carry hidden
What’s known to us…
Not friends

If known, or even where in us,
They often forget

And when remembering
They know not
At what depths
Looking for perfection
Something not met

Like a pond, that’s alluring
Shimmering with light
Savoring its sun gifts
It’s moonbeams, at night

Ever for the pleasant
Searching out delight
Blind to things hidden
Unseen by our site

Running in, to cool ourselves
Stripping, as we go
We catch afoot something
Something helpless,
Down below

Do we cry, upon our fall
Screaming, ‘the confounded drink!’?
Complaining ‘Damn oasis!’?
Is this how we think?

Do we emerge
Disheartened, then-
Cursing the waters there?

Or do we see our selfishness
And our lack of care?

The body, still is beautiful
In the wind and the sun

Flowering with life
In rest and in fun

Underneath the ripples,
Of the past

Return to him
But mindfully
So that love
May last


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.

Poem: When And How

Looking up
A canvas is
Soft as silk, across the sky

Look above,
Through tears you’ll see,
The colors changing
Broad and free

The questions heard
The pain that’s felt
They dissipate,
With kindness spelt

In the heart,
As in the sky,
There’s no limit
Nor a ‘why’

Within ‘n out
And In each way
‘Im..’ ‘n ‘possible’;
Words we say

Like blending hues,
Across the vault
Change in moments
Brings us love

What we do ‘n
What we say

Love a minute
Minds the day

Poem: Ripples on A Pond

Good morning all! Yes, this is a group-greeting.

I’m curious (Especially to hear from artists, poets, Lit. majors, and philosophers):

Bodies carry hidden
What’s known to US
Not friends

If known, or even where in us
They often do forget

And even then
When membering
They know not at what depths
Looking for perfection
Something never met

Like a pond, that’s beautiful
Shimmering Autumn light
Savoring its daytime gifts
It’s moonbeams, in the night

Ever for the pleasant
Searching out delight
Yet blind to things unseen before
And hidden out of site

Running in to cool ourselves
Stripping as we go
We catch afoot a something
Down below

Do we cry, upon our fall
Screaming ‘confounded drink!’
Complaining ‘damn oasis!’?
Is that how you think?

Do we emerge
Disheartened, then
Cursing waters there?

Or do we know
Our selfishness
And our lack of care?

The body still is beautiful
Brimming with the sun

A grove for flowers, trees
And Life
One of rest ‘n fun

Underneath the ripples, Reminders
Of the past

Return to him
But mindfully
So friendship’s love
May last?


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.

The Open Sky

Looking up
A canvas is
Soft as silk across the sky

Looking up
Through tears you’ll see
The colors changing
Broad and free

The questions heard
The pain that’s felt
They disipate
With kindness spelt

In the heart
As in the sky
There’s no limit
Nor a ‘why’

Within ‘n out
And In each way
‘Possible’, ‘impossible’;
Words we say

Like changing hues
Up above
Each moment new
Can bring you love

In what we do
And what we say

Love a minute
Minds the day


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.

Korea Photography

In Sunleung, I feel
That New York City
False kind of security
Of being surrounded by
The mysterious aura of
Great industry

Like nature
Where-around it happens so
Apparently fast
That you only see the results
In moments like this–
The complete masterpiece,
Of a building
Like a tree
Whose stages of growth you’ve missed

The architecture engulfs you
Putting the sky out of reach
Man-made trenches
Bury me deep

Everything is artificial
But bred to aspire
I’m led to inspire
A feeling that I should be here


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.

Superfluous Words, Eternal…

No image or word
No music or scene
Nor magic, no miracle,
Could ever depict,
Describe, or enrapture,
Dazzle or describe
Heal or do justice
to this feeling

No image or word
No music or scene
Nor magic, no miracle
Could show what I mean;

Could ever depict, describe,
Or enrapture, dazzle or delineate
Heal or do justice
To make things seem


Sendai No Tsunami

I shed a tear of sorrow, and respect
For those kind souls and those that love them,

Lost in the terror-waves and earthquakes
Near Nihon,  
A most favorite, tranquil, artful realm in the sea
Of my heart

Your pain is here in me
And so…

I reach out to you, and call silently,
Like your quiet suffering,
“Japan, rise, again”

Oh please…
For you,
And me

I am

I am Painfully Honest
Debilitating-ly Compassionate
A Believer in Carpe Diem
A Believer in the Sanctity of Humanity
A Believer in the Genius of Children and The Evil of Adulthood

An Enemy of Chauvinism and Parental Control; the pervasive and tendril-wielding, disease-effective, tsunami-like bulwark against Freedom and Love

I am a Believer in Love; The Process of Compassionate and Ardor-filled Intelligent and Affectionate Relationships

Sustained by Growth and Good habits to Benefit more than the self

I Believe Art is Testament to Humanity, and That Love is Art
I am Appalled at The Evil taught in Religion

I am to-the-bone-terrified of Blind Faith

I am Heartened by Intellectual, Emotional, and Spiritual Honesty

I am Chilled to Death by People with Low Self-Esteem and Shyness, though
I have deep compassion and love for them-still I recognize their debilitating and infectious victim-hood
They are the Spawn of Evil, The Victims of Control, and The Pawns of Immoral Parents, Fiends, and Government

I Herald the Genius Soul That Loves;
The Saving Grace of Humanity


From The Green “Woodnotes ” Diary (a gift from Chris Barbaria c1990, NYC)

Points to ponder in my decision

I suffer sufficient from self-derision

Why is it hard to carve a path?

In what direction shall I cast?

I know for sure, the long run road

Though steps I take are slow

To The Faithful: “Don’t Blow Up”

You were brought into this world
By those who conceived you,
Cared you, fed you, clothed you
And weened you

The God that made you
Hopefully sent you
Through parents who loved

And love they taught you

But if my heart must break to know
That you came here through rape
Or were raped as you grew

The miracle of life that was given to you
Deserves to be repaid
With the gift of life anew

So don’t be inculcated
Don’t be controled
And with this life, no terror do

Zen Momento

Dear Friends and Visitors: This poem was originally published on my other blog with Amber Park, Ocean and Stars (Don’t laugh at me, she didn’t post much there). My good friend Joe Bengivenni liked it, so I felt it worthy of calling attention to.


 A grey horizon and river

Under a dark bridge
but the light of life sparkles
In two places, like magic

No time for my camera

As the bus pulls away

At the cafe

The words of a monk
The sound of a piano, and a soft, melodious and melancholy voice
Memories of my father, back home
And of my love, of course

A confluence making a mallet
To ring a bell inside me
Sending a tone to my mind, my heart

Accusing and calling to my feet


You move along on
What you’ve thought and seen
On who you’ve ‘known’
And where you’ve ‘been’

It’s all so right and squeaky clean
And it all makes sense
In your small-minded scheme

And then one moment
In love or at war
You find your most solid perceptions no more

They’re broken in pieces, or twisted anew
Or in shades and colors and shadows untrue

So ideas and feelings don’t apply as they had
And sometimes it’s wonderful
And sometimes it’s sad

So you reshape your thoughts;
What you think you have seen
From now you’ll be open
And in between

You would that you’d feel a liitle more left
Of  happiness
And character
And less bereft

And you don’t hold fast to the branch or the root
You sit n’eath the leaves, in the light and the breeze
Forming more opinions
That’ll be just as moot


A  Gentle

Calming warmth
Steady glows
Her luminescence
Ever flows

The Sky
The Rain
A Gentle sounds

Spring’s breath melody
To my ear, and soul around

Tranquil breeze
For dancing trees
She brings

Da Vinci’s brush
For Catherine


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.

Song was written about a friend and coworker in New York, in 1991

Declaration of Intervention

I am from the super power
And the document of flex
Which stirs your heart with writing
On truth and freedom’s quest

I pay the oligarchy
to train their military
Who police the peasantry
For my profitability

They take charge of everything
Deciding what you grow
Dismissing you when you’re not needed
Hunting you if you won’t go

I am from the superpower
With inefficient splendor
Your labor feeds my people
So I’m your biggest lender

I am quite determined
I’ll kill you for your oil
If Uncle Ho’s your Washington
I’ll bomb you where you toil

I’m a bastard son
This land and culture raped
Fathers the moral idiots
The ruling class
And race

Our document’s heart
Is but a front
Righteous words of revolution
We only recall their meaning
If you make the contribution

I am from the superpower
With a deadly constitution
I force it on my neighbor to
Stem his evolution

With Cape on shoulders,
Flag on my chests
With the CIA and AID
The markets I run best

I’ll burn your house
To catch a mouse
Who served as my connection
I invade in dead of night to
Fix a false election

I am from the superpower
Your poor fulfill my dreams
Advisors come a ‘calling
But it’s never what it seems

With cash in hand
And gun in cloak
I offer no confessions

I break the law
And run your land
And you’ll make all concessions

I have the UN sanction
I’m the tail that wags the dog
From the land of glass and metal
Radiation, smog

I’ll protect your kingdom
I’ll send begotten sons
They forget the lesson
The revolution’s done

I am from America
Dropper of the bomb
For lust-cult
And legal tender

I sing an empty song

New York, 1991

Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.

The Great Bus Driver

Today she stopped smoothly
She drove utmost carefully
I forgot I was on a bus

There was no jerking forward
There was no crowding
No music
No news
No cursing, and no fuss

She did what a bus driver should do
She conducted me and you
To our destination
With no complication
No violence
No danger
Nor any ado


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.

It’s Easy

It’s a matter of blind habit
This reacting from what’s inside
This hackneyed use of programing’s right
And it’s habit we’re astride

For humans, though flesh and blood
Mind and heart so learned
We refuse to live more consciously
So we’re only along for the ride


Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.

The Cradle of The Universe

All that ever was
All that ever could be

All there is
All that you can dream, know, feel, hear
Or see

The entire whole of creation
Is all in your mind
If it’s anywhere else
And it means so much more It’s because you’re human
And because you’e free

Because every cradle of the universe
In every head
Is different
Different from the one in you
Different from the one in me
And from there comes all the beauty

All the beauty
Of each reality



Copyright © 2015 Carl Atteniese Jr., AKA ‘Mando’, All rights reserved.